


Flower Pot

by Willozed



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Bandom - Freeform, Frerard, M/M, Peterick, Ryden, Rydon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-03-06 14:47:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18853228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willozed/pseuds/Willozed
Summary: Chicago's always been a busy city. Chicago's also the City Patrick Stump grew up in. Living in a religious family on the outside of the busy city, Patrick finds comfort in one of misfit kids. Patrick hangs around the church kids during school but after school Patrick finds himself sneaking out to join the misfit.





	1. Weed is for Christains, too

Patrick Stump lives in a pretentious family. A family where Church on Sunday is non negotiable and a large breakfasts graced the table every morning, still hot and looking ever so divine. Of course, this only seen in movies life was never Patricks style. 

Patrick's father went golfing every weekend at the golf club where he would meet up with friends and enjoy a non-alcoholic beer and talk about baseball and their kids. He would sip a black coffee, a coffee choice Patrick enhaireted, and read the newspaper Saturday mornings. This was a forever lasting pattern that hasn't been broken since Patrick broke his wrist at the age of 7 whilst trying to get his baseball that he accidently hit into the tree.

Patricks mother (who looked like she was out of a 60’s magazine) hosted book clubs and church barbecues. Her flowy dresses and high heels blended in with all the other ‘Jesus is my true love’ and ‘yes, my son just got accepted into Harvard’ mothers she hung out with. Her home cooked meals aplenty and her white teeth smile made her that mom.

Its funny how Patrick turned out to be, well, Patrick. He wasn't religious and he most certainly did not enjoy golfing. Patrick was a bit of a rebel compared to his other picture perfect siblings. Patrick, although he dressed the part (Baseball jerseys and blue jeans), he wasn't the picture perfect kid. He listened to metal and other non acceptable genres in the church community. He could play both the drums and guitar to ‘Smells like teen spirit’ by Nirvana perfectly and ‘Walk with me in hell’ by Lamb of God he had perfected years ago. His parents were never home when he played these songs.

His parents barley allowed freedom (hence the late night sneaking out) and always ushered him to get straight A’s, much like a farmer would tend to his crops in order to get perfect fruits and vegetables. He was treated like a trophy, something his parents could brag about. And Patrick wanted to keep it that way.

Speaking of keeping up the picture perfect image, Patrick was sat in the principal's office being congratulated because a college wants Patrick to join their baseball team. Patrick really had not intended on going to collage (He didn't have a choice in the say but it was nice to think he got an opinion about his future) so this was a shock to him. He had not applied to this school, Stanford of all places, but his parents (The ones who wanted the picture perfect life) would be ecstatic. 

Patric, hiding his solemn face behind a happy (yet somehow very humble smile), graciously accepted the congratulations,

“My boy, your mother will be so proud, shall we call her up right now?” The principle offered, standing from his chair to grasp Patricks shoulder. An obvious sign of endearment and excitement. 

It would be weird for most kids but Patrick happened to grow up with and attend the same church with the principle and after many years of summer barbecues and church get togethers, this was normal. The principle, or Andrew as Patrick called him, grew up with Patricks father, making Andrew (AKA the principle) family. It also helped that Andrew was the Church's Pasture.

Your principle (and Pasture) being a close family friend sucks for many different reasons. Patrick had to be careful who he hung out with because if Andrew saw Patrick hanging around Haley Williams (A girl with neon orange hair) or Joe Trohman (The local junkie of the school), he’d be in some deep shit. Patrick also couldn't smoke weed (because yes, even good christian boys get high) behind the school during lunch. At Least not without getting into trouble.

No, Patrick wasn't a rule follower per say but he would be sent to a private all boys school if his behavior were to slip and Patrick was ok with not smoking weed during lunch in exchange for a public school.

Patrick offered another ‘good christian boy’ smile “I think telling her over dinner would be so much nicer” Patrick really just didn't want his mom to start crying in Andrew (the Principles) office. 

“Why, you have a good point!” Andrew stops to ponder for a second, giving Patrick enough time to silently judge Andrews all too enthusiastic sentence. “I’ll keep this a secret until we plan a dinner, how's that sound champ?” Andrew offers, a smile always gracing his face. Patrick nods.

Andrews always kind of treated Patrick like a son. Andrews own son was an amazing boy but to the eyes of Andrew, well, the boy was nothing. Billie Joe, Andrews son, had (on numerous occasions) been caught smoking weed. He had tattoos adorning his otherwise pale skin. The Singer rockstar life also didn't seem to sit well with Andrew, either. Green day, a band quickly rising to fame, created punk music that Andrew (Along with many other Christians) called satanic.

No matter how hard Andrew tried, he could never get Billie Joe to change who he was. Patrick admired Billie Joe for that. And although the two kept in under wraps, Billie Joe and Patrick were also very close friends. Billie Joe has snuck Patrick into 21+ concerts on numerous occasions.

“Well, if it's ok with you sir, I have to get home and help Mom with groceries” Patrick says. He really doesnt wanna be stuck in this office any longer. He loves Andrew like one would love an uncle but that doesn't mean he wants to hang around with him at school. Patrick isn't lying either when he says he has to help mom with groceries.

“Of course!” Andrew smiles, ushering Patrick out of his office. “Tell your mother and father i say hello” 

“Of course!” Patrick smiles another award winning smile before getting into his 1965 Ford mustang. 

Patrick was proud of his car. His dad and him had fixed it up the summer before Patrick turned 16. The car had been bought from another family friend for a extremely good price.The car didn't drive and needed a long list of repairs but that's what gave it charm. 

Patrick's father was hesitant to allow his son to buy such a run down old car that couldn't even drive. “Patrick, the car doesn't even turn on. How are you getting it home?” His father said, raising an eyebrow. He wouldn't let his son waste his money like that. Patricks rebuttal was “You’ll help me fix it up, wont ya dad? I’ll buy the parts and you can show me how to fix the car” He knew his dad was a sucker for father-son activities and this was no different. After his father huffed out a ‘fine’, Patrick bought his first car.

The car, after being fixed up, was worth a lot more money then what he originally bought it for. The car was painted in a nice coat of dark blue and drove smoothly. The car was a looker.

Patrick pulled up to his house and into the garage where he kept his car. His father left his truck parked in the driveway so his wife and son could park their cars in the two car garage. Patrick was very much thankful for this.

“Mom, im home!” Patrick called out as he opened the garage door that led into the house. There was bustling coming from the kitchen and a muffled ‘In here, sweetie’. Patrick wandered over.

“Ma, it's a Friday night, could i sleepover at Spencers?” Patrick offered his best puppy dog eyes.

His mother playfully sighed. “Go ahead”

Spencer Smith was another boy that attended their church. His parents (The Smiths) were a very close to the Stumps, often taking vacations together and inviting each other over for Saturday brunches. Spencer and Patrick had become best friends, often sneaking out to see Billie Joes band (Green Day) play and smoking weed behind dingy bars. Not the safest place to be but the boys were always careful.

The boys usually would crash on Mike Dirnt's couch (Bassist in Green Day and close friend of Billie Joes) after the concert and would leave Saturday night. All in all, this system worked pretty great and was expected to work just as well tonight. 

******  
Patrick pulled up in front of Spencer's 2 story house. A white picket fence surrounded the perfectly mowed lawn and perfectly trimmed roses. The house was nice and in an expensive neighborhood where if your grass was an inch to tall you’d get fined. Of course, the Smiths yard was always pristine and they had never been fined. 

Before Patrick even opens the white picket fenced gate Mrs. Smith has the red front door open and shes rushing down the steps, a brown paper package in her hands.

“Patrick, dear, how is your mother?” Mrs. Smith mused, absently tracing her thumb over the side of the brown package. Mrs. Smith was similar to Patrick's mom. Along with also looking like she's out of a 60’s magazine, she hosted barbeques and had harvard accepted children. Her red hair was always done up in a bun gave her an office woman look. The friendly smile she always wore helped with the office lady vibe.

Mrs. Smith’s blue polka dotted dress flowed as a strong gust of wind blew by. “My mothers swell, and you, Mrs. Smith?” Patrick offered up one of his super star smiles. 

“Oh Patrick!” Mrs. Smith gigled, holding her hand over her heart. “Please, just call me Lily” She smiled. Patrick doesn't let his smile falter. After years of knowing her it was hard to stop calling her ‘Mrs. Smith”. He wouldn't tell her this, though.

“Sorry, Lily. Bad habits never die” Patrick's internally rolling his eyes at this conversation. He wants to be inside with Spencer right now, not talking to his mom. Patricks all star facade never falters though and after the promise of yes, he will hang around more often, Patricks on his way upstairs to Spencer's room.

“Spin, you still wanna see Billie Joe?” Patrick calls out over Spencers drumming once he reaches the gingers room. Spencer sat behind his black Ludwig drum set, sweat pouring down his face. Patrick could recognize the song Spencer was just playing from anywhere. The all too familiar drumming to Green Days never heard live song, American Idiot.

“‘Course, man! Billie Joe said i could drum American Idiot tonight if i perfected it” Spencer grins, the cheshire like smile held pure joy and excitement. Spencers dreams of joining a band were evident. The smile he got when he played and his passion for music was the cherry on top of his large dream.

“Thats fantastic. We should head out now, though” Patrick frowns as he check the time on his cell phone. Billie Joe would be picking them up in 10 minutes. 

With that thought in mind, the boys left the Smiths house, promising Mrs. Smith that they were staying at Jon Walker's house and that Spencer would be home for dinner tomorrow night.

The boys had to meet Billie Joe two blocks away from the Smiths residences so Mrs. Smith never found out their secret. If Mrs. Smith found out that her son and Patrick were hanging around Billie Joe (a boy known to smoke weed and covered in tattoos) well, she’d flip.

“He’s a bad influence. I don't want you to hang around him. Not even the pasture, his own father, could help him” Spencer recalls his mother saying years back when she had first caught Billie Joe smoking behind the Church. Spencer was 14 at the time and was curious about the green leafed plant Billie Joe had been smoking. He still listened to his mom and stayed away though, at least until 2 years later at the age of 16 when curiosity got the best of him and he decided taking a hit wouldn't kill him (or his mother seeming as everything he did somehow involved her).

Patrick’s mother had found out about Billie Joe's habits through Spencer's mother, Lily, the same night during their weekly telephone call. “Oh, Patricia! That boy is bad news! I'm going to talk to Spencer tonight and tell him to not hang around Billie Joe again!” Patrick remembers hearing through the phone. Mrs. Smith (AKA Lily) had been speaking so loudly Patrick could hear her from five feet away where he was sat and the dining room table, completing his Pythagorean Theorem homework. 

Patrick didn't think much of it and continued hanging out with Billie Joe regardless. How he hadn't been caught yet was something of a miracle. The smell of weed sometimes still lingered on his clothing when he returned home after a weekend of standing around in small dive in bars. His parents seemed oblivious to this though, seeming to turn their heads away just long enough so Patrick could wash the clothing and make up a sappy lie as to why he was washing clothes.

The screeching of an old beat up van forced the two boys to look up from their beat up chuck taylors. Billie Joe's beat up green van sat on the street corner waiting for them. The van barely worked but it served its purpose. The van hauled around Green Day's equipment and the band often slept in the back while on small tours. The van smelled of weed and sweat but that didn't bother anyone to badly. You got used to the smell after a while.

“Hey-o” Billie Joe singsonged, a large, sunny smile present on his face. Billie Joe had been excited for this gig since he first found out about it. “This time we’re the headliner!” He had exclaimed one late night over the telephone. Patrick nor Spencer (together they had been studying for the abundance of tests they had before winter break) had realized Green Day was big enough to be a headliner and were both very excited. “Tre wants you guys to play American Idiot with us” Billie Joe had said, erupting more flames of excitement inside the boys. 

Patrick remembers that night well. He was proud of Billie Joe and especially excited because he (and Spencer) had always wanted to play on stage. In only a of couple hours, that dream would become reality.

“Hey Billie Joe” Spencer grinned, hoping into the van. He gently placed his Jansport backpack on the floor by his feet. Patrick hoped in the front seat. 

“You both look very charming but this is a dive-bar we’re playing at, not a private school” Billie Joe commented, nodding towards their button up dress shirts and jeans. Patrick shrugged.

“I figured we might as well dress nice for your first gig” He joked, nudging Billie Joe in the arm. Billie Joe chuckled. The nice thing about Billie Joe was he always knew when you were being serious and when you were joking. It was part of the reason him and Patrick were so close.

“Don't worry, Armstrong. We got a change o’ clothes. I convinced Patrick here to wear black skinny jeans. He looks sexy as fuck in them” Spencer wiggled his eyebrows, a cheesy grin on his face. It was times like these where Spencer would compliment his ass or chuckle like a school girl did Patrick wondered how anyone still thought Spencer was straight.

“Thanks, Spence” Patrick mumbles, cheeks flaring a bright red. 

The rest of the trip is silent. The vans radio hand broken months ago so the silence couldn't be filled with music. Even if the radio had worked there would of been much debate of what to listen to. Patrick preferring metal himself (Notable by all the Slipknot songs he could play on the drums) and Billie Joe preferring rock (notable by the Metallica and Jefferson Starship CDs littering the already messy van). 

The screeching noise sounded again was the van pulled up in front of an old dive bar. The bar looked out of place with its all black paint and the words “Funhouse” painted in white bold letters. A major contrast to the grey Chicago buildings surrounding the venue. 

Patrick had only been to this part of town a few times during family outings (This part of town was about a 45 minute drive from where Patrick lived so he rarely ventured over here) but did not know there was a music venue hidden behind the theaters and restaurants on the main road. It was the perfect place for a venue now that Patrick thought about it. The restaurants were just a block up from the venue but still far enough away from the busy streets that the venue was lesser known by your everage passersby. Patrick couldn't help but wonder how many times people had wandered to the restaurants to satisfy the munchies after smoking a blunt. 

“Whatcha think, Mr. Bigshot?” Billie Joe grinned, his guitar (Still in its case, of course) was slung over his shoulder. The case was covered in bright stickers of bands Billie Joe enjoyed. “You wanna sing something’ tonight?” Billie Joe bumped shoulders with Patrick. Billie Joe was well aware of Patricks talent. He was also well aware of Patricks stage fright. He hoped by encouraging Patrick to sing on stage tonight that maybe Patrick would try and make something out of his talent.

“It's your show, not mine” Patrick stares intently at the now very interesting sidewalk. He misses the way Billie Joe's smile falters.

“We need another opener, please open for us? You can sing some covers and play your guitar, Spence would happily drum for you” Billie Joe practically begged. When Patrick did not respond Billie Joe released a frustrated groan. “You're talented, just play a few songs. Think about it” Billie Joe stalked away after that, roughly throwing open the venue door and disappearing inside the dark room. 

Spencer sent Patrick a knowing look but said nothing of it.


	2. Anxiety hung or nervous wreck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick's terrified of going on stage. He hasn't preformed since he was 7 and since then a lot has changed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys so i just wanted you all to be aware that yes, i know Billie Joe Armstrong is a lot older then Patrick Stump. For the purpose of this book i changed Billie Joe's age.
> 
> Also, this chapter is just a filler. The next chapter will be a lot more interesting and contain the introduction of another key figure to this story.

Billie Joe had directed Spencer and Patrick backstage to the dressing rooms where he mumbled ‘sound check’ then wandered off. The boys took this as an opportunity to change out of their dress shirts (something worn regularly in their Christian households) and non ripped nor stained blue jeans. The boys, well aware of how their parents mumbled hate every time they saw a teenager clad in ripped or skinny jeans, changed into just that.

Patricks black skinny jeans, as Spencer had previously mentioned, accentuated his ass pretty nicely and the black fedora hid Patrick's sweaty forehead (he was extremely nervous and sweating profusely). The black leather jacket Patrick wore gave him the ‘bad boy vibe’ and his black boots made him appear taller. Spencer was dressed similarly with his black ripped jeans but Spencer opted to wear converse instead of boots and no leather jacket.

The boys attire fit in well with the dingy dive bar. The venue had a wide assortment of stickers on the wall across from the stage, stickers ranging from the Nirvana smiley face to coke a cola bottles. The leather jacket seemed to fit into the venues scene like aesthetic and if it wasn't for Patricks pacing in the dressing rooms, the boys might have looked like they’d been here before. 

Spencer had immediately noticed Patrick's distress and tried to distract Patrick in hopes to calm Patricks nerves. Spencer joked about that one winter vacation their families had taken together where Mr. Stump had ended up yelling at a teenage wearing black skinny jeans and a leather jacket, similar attire to what Patrick was wearing now. Patrick chuckled but continued pacing anyways, the only thought he could comprehend was that the last time he was on stage he was 7.

Of course, when you're 7 anxiety and depression is non existent and isn't holding you back. When you’re 7 the worlds all butterflies and rainbows. Patrick wished he could go back to these butterfly and rainbow days where anxiety was non existent, days where he didn't have anything to worry about and he could just be the baseball loving kid.

Thoughts envying his past swarmed through Patricks head as he debated his options. Yes, he could go on stage and perform (Something he has dreamed about since his first drum set when he was 6) and risk having a panic attack OR he could stand in the sea of sweaty people and jump around to the punk rock music Green Day performed. Both options were weighed heavily.

This first option meant that he would still be able to mosh to Green Day and have the opportunity, if only for a couple minutes, to live his dream. It was a win win situation as long as he didn't have a panic attack before he went on stage.

The major thing holding Patrick back was that Billie Joe wanted him to sing. Patrick was a drummer, not a singer. People claimed he could sing and this his guitar skills were divine but Patrick never believed them. Patrick was most confidant with his drumming and would much rather drum. The drummers were often never noticed and kept out of the spotlight, something Patrick wanted so desperately. 

Patrick didn't want to be in the spotlight and it was proven as he paced the dressing room, frantically twisting and pulling at his hands (a nervous habit). His new attire looked more fitting for a dive bar but right now the leather jacket was constricting and was making Patrick feel claustrophobic. His pacing was ignored by everyone besides Spencer who kept glancing at him with worried filled eyes, acting as if he would fly away the second he wasn't looking. Patrick wasn't a damn bird , and maybe it was the stress causing his patience to run thin, but Spenders worried glances pissed Patrick off.

“What?!” Patrick growled after the 11th worried glance Spencer sent him. Spencer shrunk back a bit. Patrick might be small but he was scary when angry. 

“You don't have anything to worry about. You’ll do great” Spencer tried to help calm Patricks nerves, even if just for a minute. He and Patrick were best friends, he hated seeing Patrick so distressed. Spencer gave Patrick his best puppy dog eyes and finally Patrick took a deep breath and stopped pacing. 

He turned his body to face Spencer, noticing the boys laid back and calm demeanor. Spencer was sprawled out on the couch with an unlit cigarette hanging from the right side of his mouth.

Spencer didn't smoke, infact, he hated smoking. Spencer did however like the idea that he could hold cancer between his lps and be fine. He claimed in made him feel powerful. Like he had a choice. At home Spencer (nor Patrick) got a choice or any power. The cigarette hanging from Spencers mouth was a way of coping.

Patrick ran his fingers through his hair. “Im not a singer” Patrick stated, no emotion was in his crystal blue eyes. His face was expressionless, his shoulders slouched. Patrick knew if he walked out on that stage that he would disappoint everyone. He didn’t want that. 

Spencer had known Patrick since diapers and recognized his expressionless expression as Patrick not wanting to, quote on quote, “burden” anyone with his problems. If Patrick thought his best friend wouldn’t recognize this look then he was so terribly wrong. 

“To hell with what everyone else says. You’re an amazing singer and need to get your ass on stage and show the world your talent” Spencer exclaimed, throwing his legs from the armrest of the couch to the floor, propelling his body into an upright position. He waved his arms as he spoke, attempting to prove his point. Spencer knew he was right and now he needed Patrick to know he was right.

Patrick offered an unsure smile. “Will you drum for me?” The grin that covered Spencers face after Patrick said that was enough to motivate the timid boy to pick up his white guitar and start the tiresome process of tuning. 

“Hell yeah!” A voice, specifically Billie Joe’s voice, rang throughout the dressing room. Spencer and Patrick looked up at the loud and excited voice, being met with a grinning Billie Joe. Patrick smiled shyly, nodding towards Spencer.

“This asshole convinced me to play ‘all the small things’ by Blink” Patrick kept that shy smile on as he glanced down at his guitar, chuckling lightly. Billie Joe was beaming. 

“Fucking fantastic! You’re the most talented motherfucker here tonight” Billie Joe exclaimed, rushing over to where Patrick was standing and throwing his arm around the smaller boy. Patrick stumbles backwards, barely managing to stay on both feet.

“I don't know, man. You’re the headliner, you better be the most talented here” Patrick teases but in all honesty he just doesn't want so much pressure on him. His talent and experience is limited unlike Billie Joe whose played on stage many times before. 

“Well shit. Guess you one upped me” Billie Joe shoots one of his heart melting grins and releases Patrick from his hold. Patricks starting to realize why Mr. Armstrong (or Andrew) and Billie Joe don't get along. Billie Joe’s cussing is regular and his black skinny jeans don't exactly fit church standards. 

Andrew was the pasture, he could probably change the churches standards so they would accept Billie Joe and his ever to reliant cursing. But alas, those standards have not changed. Andrew Armstrong chose to ban his son from Church (not that Billie Joe minded that. He hated church) and keep him hidden until Billie Joe had had enough and moved away. Billie Joe and Andrew never had gotten along and if it weren't for the other parents who kept trying to change Billie Joe's ways by inviting him every so often to barbeques, Billie Joe would of never been heard of again.

Patrick had heard stories from Billie Joe that his father would send him to summer caps designed to make bad kids good again. Stories filled with abuse to things ranging from hours in the hot son digging holes for fence posts to being whipped with riding crops designed for Thoroughbred horses.

This made Patrick wonder what his own parents would do if they found out about what they did during the weekends and school breaks. Would his parents send him to camps like this? His parents had always been strict and they wanted to keep that perfect family image up. Patrick did not doubt that his parents would kick him out if they ever found out (which hopefully, they won't) but were these horror story like camps something they’d do to him?

“What time do i go on?” Patrick questioned, deciding he need something, anything to fill the silence that had settled in the room. The silence was always the worst for Patrick. It gave him a chance to doubt his every movement and honestly, Patrick didn't need that right now. After the horror some thoughts that just filtered through his head, he didn't doubt for a second he could conjure up worst.

“After this bands set” Billie Joe gave a cheeky grin as he laced his hands behind his back and rocked on the heels of his converses. Billie Joe already knew Patrick would play and therefore changed the set times to make sure Patrick had time to play. That cheeky motherfucker Patrick thought. The death glares he was sending Billie Joe were murderous. (the phrase ‘if looks could kill’ seemed fitting for this situation). 

Patrick didn't have nearly enough time to prepare for the murderous embarrassment he was about to face. He was so nervous he’d need hours to calm down but alas,he band currently occupying the stage only had 2 more songs meaning Patrick had about 7 minutes to give himself the very much needed ‘you’ll do great!’ and ‘believe in yourself’ speech. If he counted in the time it would actually take him to come up with the speech then he might as well already be dead.

Why this surprised Patrick, well he was unsure. Billie Joe making immense decisions like this wasn't uncommon. They all usually worked out in the end and Patrick wonders if this is one of those usually works out in the end decisions. Billie Joe's immense decisions often only affect himself, like when he got his first tattoo when he was 15 (that decision had effectively banned him from church but Billie Joe didn't like Church so it worked out in the end). Patrick crossed his fingers, hoping he wouldn't embarrass himself upon that stage.

Maybe it was just his overwhelming anxiety that was causing him to be so irrationally irritated at Billie Joe but he couldn't help it. He was a nervous wreck and nothing, not even listening to the music he so heavily worshipped, would help.

Patrick took a deep breath (not that it would help) and looked Billie Joe in the eyes. “You motherfucker better be lucky i love you or else i would be killing you” Patrick’s bitter voice sounded so sincere that Billie Joe and even Spencer, who had been silently watching this all happen, doubt for a second that Patrick was serious. Patrick may be small but he could put up one hell of a fight.

“Woah there, bud. Wait until after the show to kill our singer” Another voice, Tre Cool, teased from the doorway of the dressing room. Tree cool was a short, bleached blonde man. Tre was the very outgoing drummer of the band who more often than not had a large smile on his face. To the right to Tre was Mike Dirnt, bassist for Green Day. Mike was a quiet man. He was tall and had dirty blonde hair.

Tre and Mike were blocking the doorway, shoulders pressed together so they could stand side by side. Mike raised his eyebrows at Patrick who was eyeing the doorway. Mike was very observant and noticed the smallest of things, like Patrick eyeing a doorway.

Billie Joe soffed, shaking his head. “Ya’ll wont be Green Day with out me” Billie argued. This comment caused Tre to lunge forward and tackle Billie Joe to the floor. The boys rolled around on the floor, laughing and thrashing about. Things like this reminded Patrick that Billie Joe wasn't that much older then himself. Billie Joe was only 18 compared to his 16 year old self. Billie Joe had a semi successful band and had managed to support himself at the age of 16 by working minimum wage jobs and obtuse side jobs. The cost of living was rather expensive in Chicago and forced Billie Joe to be a hard working young adult. Things like this made Billie Joe seem older than he actually was. It was impressive.

Patrick chuckled at this light hearted behavior. Whenever it came to music, even just sitting in the venue or driving to the venue, Billie Joe always seemed happier. Billie Joe was very passionate and hardworking, Patrick could only wish for traits like that.

“Patrick Stomp, get your ass out here” An angry, snarky crew member yelled. Patrick couldn't tell if his last name was purposely pronounced wrong or not. 

Tre and Mike coming in the room (well, standing in the doorway) had distracted Patrick from his ever present anxiety but now that he was actually late to the stage made everything worse. He cursed silently under his breath and stumbled over to his guitar that he had set down sometime after Billie Joe wandered in. Patrick was so nervous he could hardly walk, holding his guitar seemed to calm those nerves a bit. At Least enough that he could walk without tripping.

Spencer walked ahead of Patrick and out the doorway Mike had been previously occupying. Patrick followed closely behind his red headed friend but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

“You’ll do great” Mike said, offering a reassuring smile. Patrick nodded as a thank you.

Taking one last glance into the dressing room he noticed Billie Joe and Tre were now sitting on the couch offering the same reassuring smile Mike was. Billie Joe gave Patrick a thumbs up. Billie Joe’s smile seemed to be the largest, as if he was immensely proud of his short, hard headed friend. With that large smile in mind, Patrick rushed down the corridor and to the stage, white guitar slung over his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you guys all think? Is it enjoyable so far?
> 
> Expect another update soon x


	3. Flannel Tied waist and Fire truck hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick and Spencer finally step on stage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I haven't been able to update and frequently as I hoped. My Great Grandma has cancer so i have been dealing with that. On top of that my two younger siblings has been in the hospital. One was there for a week due to her appendix rupturing and the other due to a broken tibia. I hope (now that things have settled down) that i will be able to update this more. For now though, enjoy this short chapter.

The lights were blinding. When standing amongst the crowd the lights didn't seem to bad but now, on a wooden stage 3 feet off the ground, the lights resembled the sun. Patrick raised a hand to cover his eyes. He was a nervous wreck and the lights were giving him a headache.

Cautiously, Patrick peeked from behind his hand and looked over the crowd. The crowd was huge, bigger then it was most nights. Maybe it was because Green Day was here with the promise of a new song. Or maybe, just maybe, had Billie Joe raved about the amazing blonde singer he had playing this Friday night. Billie Joe was loud and talkative, usually the highlight of a party and he often talked before he could comprehend what he was saying. This small detail of a talent packed singer could have easily slipped, if it was on purpose or not Patrick may never know.

Patrick, shaking with nerves, finally placed both hands onto his guitar and squeaked into the microphone. “Hello, i'm uh-” Patrick quickly shut up when a black haired man standing in the middle of where a mosh pit would normally be, shouted.

“Hey! Dumb ass! Is your voice as good as you look? Because damn, you’re a fucking snack” The man yelled. Patrick turned bright red. He’d never received compliments that were so blunt and Patrick sure didn't appreciate it. He’d never received any sort of compliment from a guy either and for that it was off putting. Do i look gay? Patrick questioned stupidly. He paused for a second, realizing now was not the time for a mental breakdown about how he looks.

Patrick was generally pretty quiet but even he knew that if he wanted to be liked by the crowd that he would have to step his game up.

Patrick warily looked over his shoulder to look at Spencer. Spencer offered two thumbs up and a cheshire smile. But even from here, Patrick could tell Spencer was nervous.

Patrick seemingly refused to speak and ultimately Spencer decided something needed to happen. Patrick couldn't just stare at Spencer all day and Spencer was smart enough to realize this. The short blonde mans posture screamed help and nervousness.

Spencer leaned forward to speak into the microphone in front of his drum set. “Green Day” He paused to let the roaring crowd settle. “Asked us to be here tonight so we’re here. Green Day has also told us you are all big The Offspring fans so..” Spencer leaned back into his seat and started drumming the beginning of ‘Bad Habit’. Patrick quickly scrambles to find a guitar pic and strums along.

Patrick remembers perfecting this song when he was 12. His parents had been out of town and had asked his cousin, another rebellious teenager, to watch him. Patrick's cousin, Ethan, at the time had been 17 and had also, much like Patrick, been keeping up the good all around Christain kid look up. Ethan was to stay the week at the Stump house and make sure Patrick was fed and on time to school each morning. Ethan easily followed these rules.

Patrick and Ethan were never really close but after Patrick found Ethan's extensive Cd collection while snooping in the guest bedroom, Patrick couldn't be pulled away from him. Patrick and Ethan spent the whole week talking about music, something Patrick could never talk about with his parents. And when Ethan found out about Patrick's drummer talents he insisted that Patrick learn how to play ‘Bad Habit’.

It had been a good week and since Patrick's parents thought Ethan was another good Christain boy they were ecstatic to hear that Patrick and Ethan were close. ‘I'm so glad you and Ethan are friends!’ Patricks mother had exclaimed when she had returned home. Patrick knew she meant she was glad he wasn't hanging around ‘bad’ kids.

Patrick had this song memorized and it helped with his nerves. He didn't miss a note and the crowd was so engrossed with the beat pumping through their eardrums that they hardly cared for the two teenagers performing.

The song finished rather quickly meaning Patrick (or hopefully Spencer) would have to talk. “So..” Patrick chuckled awkwardly into the microphone. He rubbed the back of his sweaty neck and glanced around the dingy bar. A shorter man caught Patrick's attention.

The man was taller than Patrick (lets face it, everyone is taller than Patrick) and had arms layered in colorful ink. The mans leather jacket and flannel tied waist blended in amongst the other leather jacket people he was surrounded by. A lengthy boy with firetruck red hair noticed the lack of music and waved his hand toward the stage, seemingly mentioning the observation. That's when Patrick and the shorter man made eye contact.

The man smirked at Patrick, his pearly white teeth a stark contrast to his tan skin. The man waved at Patrick before returning to his previous conversation. Patrick shrugged off any thoughts he had about this man. While he would be perfectly fine watching this man for the next half an hour there was a performance he had to deliver.

“Everyone loves Blink 182 so how about we play something’ from ‘em next?” Patrick spoke into the mic. He glanced back at Spencer to gauge his reaction. Spencer threw a thumbs up and grinned a large grin. Spencer was a massive Blink fan if the records hidden in his closet and under his bed said anything.

“Fuck yeah!” Spencer yelled into his mike, twirling a drumstick between his pointer and middle finger. Some of the crowd laughed at Spencer's ecstatic reaction. The beginnings of “Dammit” pounded to life through the large amps.

Patrick poured his heart and soul into singing. Singing still made him nervous and he wasn't a singer by any means but he still tried his best. He wanted to do his best for Spencer and Billie Joe. He didn't want to disappoint either of them. Spencer had over the top large dreams about becoming a drummer in a huge band like Nirvana or Metallica and Patrick knew that nothing would stop Spencer from achieving those dreams. Patrick feared that if he didn't perform well today that his and Spencer's friendship would fall apart.

These thoughts were not true but to Patrick, they seemed to be reality. Patricks anxiety and self doubting thoughts always begged to differ with the truth and whilst this was a normal thing it still bugged Patrick. Patrick was a trooper though and through all the stress of “if I don't do this well tonight I'll lose my best friend” Patrick sang well.

“Fuckin' hell, you guys are fantastic” Patrick yelled into the microphone long after “damnit had finished and the end cords to “all the small things” had just finished ringing. “I'm sad to say that was the end of our 10 minute set but we’ll be back soon” Patrick promised a promise he knew he couldn't keep but in that moment, while he was up on stage and his troubled thoughts were silent, he truly felt he would be back.

Patrick pocketed his guitar pick and stood on stage for a second longer. He was well aware that the stage crew wanted him and Spencer to pack up ASAP but that didn't stop Patrick. Patrick watched as everyone in the club turned back into their friend groups, most likely to discuss the two teenagers who just entered Chicago's music scene. The clubs shitty speakers started blasting popular rock music once more, signalling the end to Patrick's performance once more.

Patrick and Spencer only got the opportunity to play 3 songs (Bad Habit by The Offspring, Dammit By Blink 182, and All the small things by Blink 182) but the two teenagers were buzzing with excitement, even as they packed up.

Patrick glanced around the room once more, making eye contact with the short tan man once again before hopping off the stage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapter! I promise that i will upload the next chapter ASAP. For now though, what did you think? I know for a fact the next chapter will introduce a very important person so keep an eye out for that.
> 
> Thanks for reading  
> , Sincerely Author


	4. ail Cell Savior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick ends up cornered behind the dingy Bar Billie Joe often refers to as home.

“Fuckin hell, Guys!” Billie Joe exclaimed, jumping up from his spot on the couch to greet the two very sweaty teenagers. “You guys did great!” Billie Joe smiled a wide toothy smile as he pulled the teenagers into his arms. His nose scrunched up at the smell of sweaty teenagers and he quickly pushed them away. 

Spencer chuckled lightly. “Thanks BJ” Spencer grinned, bumping shoulders with Billie Joe before wandering over to a case of water in the corner. Patrick stayed silent and still throughout this exchange. He didn't have much to say. Now that he was off the stage he didn't know what to do with himself. 

Mike noticed Patricks silence. “You were excellent, Pat” Mike reassured, throwing his arms around the smaller, much more sweaty, boy. Patrick murmured a ‘thanks’.  
______  
An hour after Patricks performance and 20 minutes until Green Day was performing Patrick could be found outside behind the dingy small bar, staring blankly at the small parking lot opposite from its brick walls. A carefully rolled blunt was hanging loosely between his pointer a middle finger. 

Patrick was leaning against the dirty red brick, tapping his foot to the beat of whatever band was playing inside. This band was a lot better than most opening bands was. This band had their shit put together. From what Patrick could hear from his spot outside the bar was what sounded like original songs. Patrick even found himself humming to one particularly catchy song. ‘I'm not okay’ he hummed, his foot still tapping along to the drums.

“Hey there, hotstuff” A voice suddenly stopped Patricks humming. Patrick turned to the voice cautiously. The man who spooked was about 5 '9'’ and wore black ripped jeans. He had his arms crossed, a smirk on his plump lips, and was tapping his foot impatiently. The mans black quiff was styled to perfection and his black jacket was in pristine condition. The man's posture practically screamed douche. Patrick shuddered. It was the guy who screamed at him while he was on stage.

“Hello” Patrick forced a smile and fully turned his body towards the taller man. The blunt still hanging loseley between his fingers was long forgotten, instead replaced with the goal of ‘don't show your fear’. Patrick was trying to look confident to hide his fear. He was anxious (though the weed had significantly calmed him down), he wasn't a social person. Though this guy didn't look like he wanted friendly conversation.

“So tell me, babe, what are you doing back here in this scary alley?” The man smirked, stepping closer to Patrick's shaking frame. Patrick gulped.

“I was just leaving” Patrick stated firmly, moving to step around the taller, more threatening, man. The man scoffed though, grabbing Patrick by the shoulder he pushed him into the brick wall. The soft thud of Patricks back hitting the brick rang throughout the dark Chicago night air. 

Patrick was really regretting coming out here though at the time it seemed like a phenomenal idea. It had gotten hot inside the small bar and Patrick knew that the night time Chicago air would be able to cool him off. The idea of smoking a blunt in the cool air had also seemed appealing. He had expected to stay outside for 20 minutes tops and then watch Green Day performed. He hadn't expected to be pinned to a wall by a complete stranger but surprises come in all shapes and forms.

The man had Patrick pressed against the dirty brick wall with arms gripping Patricks shoulders so hard that Patrick knew there would be bruises left. Patrick was cornered and there was nobody else here to save him. 

“Aren't you just a sweetheart?” The man chuckled darkly, removing one of his hands from Patricks shoulder to take the blunt from Patricks shaking hand. Patrick put up no protest and watched as the man raised the blunt to his lips and inhaled deeply. The man exhaled the smoke into Patricks face. Patrick scrunched up his face in response.

“Brendon!” A new voice scolded. Patricks head snapped to the sound of the voice and was met with the glorious sight of the tan skinned man from inside the bar. Patrick had never been so happy to see a stranger.

Brendons head turned quickly towards the newcomer and his grip on Patrick weakened. Patrick used this as an opportunity to escape. With both hands pressed onto the guys chest, Patrick pushed hard sending the man flying to the floor. 

The newcomer chuckled as the man hit dirty asphalt floor with a thud. The man, who Patrick assumed was named Brendon, groaned angrily and quickly jumped to his feet with a fist raised. Before Brendon could swing his fist and hit Patrick square in the face, the newcomer stepped in. He diligently slid from his original spot of 5 feet away to a new spot of in between Patrick and who Patrick assumed was Brendon. The newcomer gripped Brendons raised wrist and forced it down to Brendons side.

“Be lucky i stopped you or else your ass would’ve wound up in a jailcell for rape” The newcomer spat angrily, the words acting like venom on his toung. Although the newcomer was shorter then Brendon he was alot more intimadating. He wasnt scared of getting in Brendons face and the tattoos adorning his otherwise tan arms only added to the intimidation.

Brendon and the newcomer stared angrily into each other's eyes for a few seconds before Brendon finally looked away. The newcomer spat on Brendons shoes before forcibly releasing Brendons wrist, causing him to stumble backwards.

“Run along now, forehead. I don't think you wanna meet my fist” The newcomer taunted as he pushed Brendon away and watched with pride as Brendon scurried off.

The newcomer (who Patrick has dubbed his savior) finally turned around to face him.The few feet that separated the two seemed like hundreds of feet to Patrick. Patrick wanted to walk closer to the savior and pull him into his arms. He wanted to thank the short tan man for saving him. Patricks night could have changed drastically if the savior has not wandered over here and hell, Patrick was thankful those drastic changes had not been made. 

Ultimately though, Patrick was an awkward person who had no social skills. This caused silence to settle between the few feet that separated him and his hero, the only noise being from inside the bar as hundreds of people applauded. Patrick didn't know what to say to his savior so he simply admired the man. He was good looking with his flannel tied waist and ripped jeans. He looked like a photo right out of a 90s fashion magazine.

“Do you only sing or can you speak too?” The savior smirked, breaking whatever trance Patrick was in. Patrick decided that maybe his savior wasn't as kind as he first imagined. With the weed flowing through his blood stream he had trouble coming up with a witty remark. At least that's the excuse Patrick used for being unable to come up with a snarky remark. His brain may very well be unable to function due to the attractive man he dubbed as savior standing in front of him. 

“I- uh. I can speak” Patrick finally sputtered, a rosey blush settling on his pale cheeks. The savior seemed satisfied with the response.

More silence settled between the pair. It wasn't awkward silence by any means but rather a comfortable, safe silence. The pair felt safe in each others presence but neither boy could figure out why.

The savior subtly gazed at Patrick. Patrick was gorgeous. His blue eyes shone brightly in the moonlight and the specks of gold seemed to gleam. His eyes were truly a work of art. His strawberry blonde hair was clad in a fedora and his gorgeous eyes were framed by a pair of black glasses that hadn't been worn during the show.

The savior finds his hand moving on its own accord towards Patrick's cheek. “Your eyes are gorgeous” The savior mumbles, gazing into Patricks eyes. This moment reminded Patrick of some movie cliche but Patrick couldn't care less. The saviors hand is warm and Patrick found comfort in it. Patrick leans into the touch.

“What's your name, love?” The savior mumbles, seemingly in a trance that Patricks not sure can be broken.

“Patrick” Patrick glances at the asphalt. He hopes that if he avoids eye contact then he won't fall so easily. He doesn't want to so easily fall for this guy though he knows this guy is easy to fall for. 

“Thats a saints name, isn't it?” The guy, Patricks savior, smirks. His hand is still resting on Patricks cheek but he's been broken out of whatever trance he was in moments before. Hes now the cocky asshole most people know him to be. The savior leans his head forward ever so slightly so he and Patrick share the same air.

Patrick shrugs. “Guess so. Religious parents” Patricks still staring intently at the ground as if it's the most interesting thing he's ever seen. And hey, maybe it is.

“Im Pete Wentz” The savior, now known as Pete, responds. Patrick smiles slightly.

“Thats a saints name, too” Patrick grins, finally looking up at Pete. Their noses are inches apart and they share the same air. Patrick nor Pete seem to care though. Patrick looks up into Petes eyes (because let's face it, Pete’s still taller than him) and smiles a breathtaking smile. Pete's heart melts slightly. 

“I guess so” Pete shrugs, smiling a wide, genuine, smile. Pete's teeth are pearly white. They stand out against his tan skin, even in the dark.

The cliche romantic moment is swiftly ended by the sound of Billie Joe's voice from inside the bar. “How the fuck is everyone tonight?!” Billie Joe yells, causing an uproar of fanatic fans. 

Billie Joe is known for his vulgar language and tonight is no different. 

“Shit, I got to go” Patrick's eyes widen and he swiftly pulls away from Pete. “I’ll see you after the show?” Patrick asks hopefully, his blue eyes still wide. Pete nods with an amused smirk and watches Patrick scurry off inside the bar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter moved through events far to quickly but after about 30 minutes of non stop deleting and adjusting i just could not figure out how to fix it so I do apologize for that. I also feel like this chapter lacked in detail but aforementioned, I just couldn't figure it out. I ultimately decided that I would post this chapter how it is because if I have to spend any more time critiquing this chapter i might actually explode. Hence why this chapter also lacks in length.  
> As always, feedback is highly appreciated. Also, please let me know what you think of this story so far in the comments. I'm currently working on a chapter for my other story (Southern boys charm, City boys luck) but i have some major ideas for this story so expect another update soon.  
> Safe place to rant in the comments  
> Thanks for reading  
> , Sincerely Author

**Author's Note:**

> ***Feedback is highly appreciated. Also, please let me know what you think of this story so far in the comments. I'm currently working on a chapter for my other story (Southern boys charm, City boys luck) but i have some major ideas for this story so expect another update soon.
> 
> Safe place to rant in the comments
> 
> Thanks for reading, Sincerely Author***


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